


Of Fools and Falls

by pumpkinonwheels



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Experimental, Gen, Nyssa's POV, midseason spoilers, some poetry, what even is this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 18:03:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3178025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinonwheels/pseuds/pumpkinonwheels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver's fight and its immediate aftermath from Nyssa's perspective. Told through a mixture of prose and verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Fools and Falls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Albiona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Albiona/gifts).



**i.**

You are a fool. Standing  
exposed  
in the wind and the cold and the  
face of my father.  
Believing  
that because you bested the mountain  
you can best the man. 

Except  
he is not a man.  
You are neither of you  
men anymore.  
You are a secret; he is a legend.  
You are both stories  
constructed  
to inspire fear and respect and obedience.  
You are not so different  
from him. 

Except  
you are like a child  
holding aloft  
a broken branch,  
threatening the sky. 

Except  
your weapon  
splinters in your fingers  
until you cry out and  
it  
falls.

Your sword is  
ripped  
from you.  
You are finished,  
surely.

Except  
children do not suffer surety.  
They are not brave,  
but they are stubborn  
and bold  
and so very  
foolish. 

You fight on.  
You fight.  
You fight. 

You fail. 

And like all the others  
who climbed here  
before you,  
you

 

fall. 

 

**ii.**

Except you do not scream. The snow accepts the gift of your blood, but the air is left with only the wind’s howls when it longs for yours.

I did not expect you to beg or weep. It is not your way. Silence is protection for you, little archer. It conceals your steps, the pull of your bowstring. You hide in shadows and deal in pain. 

I did not expect tears.

But I’d hoped for screams.

 

 **iii.**

I take no _pleasure_ in your death, no contentment, no satisfaction. Though I do not mourn you either. My heart is too full of grief already to accommodate more, even if I wished to.

Oh, I am aware of your innocence. You did not kill my love. Your fingers did not notch those arrows. Your muscles did not tighten the string. It was not you who watched my Sara fall.

But you deserved your death. You protected the one who took my light away. I am no fool. You claimed this deed and in preventing true justice, you felt its power.

I watched you fall.

I hoped you’d scream.

I wanted your regret to vibrate through me. I wanted the mountain and the valley and the sky to feel the force of your grief. I wanted you to scream as I have screamed.

You couldn’t grant me even that satisfaction.

 

**iv.**

Night falls,  
after silence and a bloody sky breaking black,  
and I wonder how much longer you will  
taint my world.

 

**v.**

I do not dream of death. Yours or hers. I do not dream of those I have ended or my own imagined final heartbeat. I do not dream of my father or the next thousand bodies he’ll send over the ledge. 

My dreams are inexplicably soft, like rose petals.

I crave the thorns.

**vi.**

Moonlight bounces off the endless snow, a mere reflection of a reflection, but I am grateful for its guidance nonetheless. 

I do not know what it is to climb this mountain. I do not know what it is to fall. But now I know what it is to descend with intention, each step a risk and a choice.

You chose to climb. You chose to protect Sara’s killer. You chose to fight. You didn’t choose to fall, but you may as well have.

**vii.**

I find you.

You are exposed,  
foolish,  
sliced,  
broken,  
but you are not

silent. 

You breathe.

Air rattles from your ruined lungs  
up through your throat  
and out your bloodied lips  
to kiss the pink snow. 

It is impossible.

Except—  
you breathe.  
Barely,  
but there is breath. 

You fight  
still.

You will fail again.

Surviving the fall  
does not mean survival.  
Breathing  
does not mean life.  
My presence  
does not mean salvation. 

I will not save you.

Even if I could,  
I would not. 

You chose this path.  
Who am I to deny you  
your choices? 

Already your breathing  
quiets.

This is not the scream the wind craved,  
but it is not the silence she loathed either. 

I turn,  
ready to climb.  
I will not fall,  
not as you have. 

You fell  
and you will fail.  
You will die soon,  
little archer.

Except  
even as you surely suffer, 

I know you do not suffer surety.

**Author's Note:**

> This is easily the most experimental fic I've ever written, but I couldn't make it work any other way. Inspired by "In Circles" from the Transistor Soundtrack. 
> 
> And belated Merry Christmas to Albiona! <3


End file.
